Mrs Down's Diary

The land under the plough at the match is much lighter than ours. It has been down to grass for a lot of years. Several hundred lambs being fattened for market were in the next field. They looked fed up about being thrown off the grass for the ploughing match and having to content themselves grazing stubbles.

We stood in silent reverence beside tractors John had driven as a youth. He started work on the farm when barely into his teens. Wouldn't be allowed now. No cover, no Q cabs. One of the David Brown's Implematics had a Lambourne cab, a sort of tarpaulin with windows.

"I thought it was luxury to have one of those" John reminisced. Good heavens, its hissy fits now if the air conditioning or heater doesn't work. A Massey Ferguson 65 chugged past, then a Fergie T20 and a Fordson Dexter. John by now a drooling heap of nostalgia. Men in overalls and boiler suits stood wisely judging at the end of rows. Soil heaven.

For full feature see West Sussex Gazette April 8